


The Stowaway

by FlirtyFroggy



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-10
Updated: 2011-07-10
Packaged: 2017-10-21 05:38:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlirtyFroggy/pseuds/FlirtyFroggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edmund and Caspian are not the only ones skulking around the darker parts of the ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stowaway

The ship had seemed so big when she first came aboard. From the shore it had looked much smaller, especially compared to some of the slave ships that arrived from Calormen; great big things rowed by two hundred men that arrived filled with silk and oil and spices and gold, and left filled with people. But she had never been on a ship before, not a real ship, only the little fishing and rowing boats that travelled around and between the islands. She had never been allowed on any of the ships her father had sailed with. The mast had towered above her, the great purple sail casting the seemingly endless deck into shadow. She had thought it would be easy to hide here, that there would be nooks and crannies where she would never be found.

Just one day on board had shown her how wrong she was. The blond boy, Eustace, kept complaining about how small the Dawn Treader was and she was beginning to agree with him. There were plenty of nooks and crannies, no doubt about that, but hiding in them was next to impossible. They were already filled with crates and barrels and sacks. And people. So many people. She would never have believed the ship could hold them all.

She ducked behind a cask of water as she heard footsteps coming down through the hatch. Voices came with them, too low to hear. She peered cautiously out through a net that hung down beside her barrel. It was them. The kings. She had never seen a king before yesterday. Not even so much as a duke. She had thought they would be more, well, kingly. Shouldn’t they have crowns? And servants? The kings in stories were never so scruffy. But they had defeated the slavers and released the prisoners and promised to find all those who had been taken by the mist. Maybe crowns did not matter so much.

They moved closer, and she ducked back down. She could hear them now, but did not dare risk trying to look out again.

“Have you ever heard of anything like this, Ed?”

“This mist thing? No.”

“Me neither.” She could hear shuffling footsteps, as though someone were pacing back and forth in the narrow space. She crouched lower. “I wish Cornelius were here. He might know something, some ancient tale or myth. But there was nothing like this in the stories he told me.”

“We’ll figure it out. Aslan will help us.”

“You sound like Lucy.” There was a smile in Caspian’s voice.

“That may be the best compliment you’ve ever paid me.”

Caspian laughed, a quiet, low chuckle that was swallowed up by the crowded hold. “Oh, I’m sure I’ve paid you better.”

Edmund’s reply was so quiet she couldn’t hear it. She leaned forward and risked a look through the net. They were standing close to each other, a swinging lantern directly over their heads casting dancing shadows around them. Edmund seemed to be studying Caspian’s face, which was hidden from her view by his hair. After a moment, Caspian reached out a hand to touch a wound on Edmund’s cheek. “Does it hurt?”

Edmund shook his head. “It’s just a scratch.” He closed his eyes as Caspian’s fingers travelled beyond the cut and moved down his cheek. His lips parted as Caspian touched them, then his eyes flew open and he jerked his head back, stepping away from Caspian. His eyes darted around the hold, as though he were afraid someone may have magically appeared there and seen them. Gael pulled back into the shadows. “Are you mad?” Edmund hissed.

“I think I might be.” Gael couldn’t resist leaning forward again to see what was happening. Caspian was looking at his feet and running his hand repeatedly through his hair. Edmund, his face flushed, was looking anywhere but at Caspian.

She knew she should probably retreat to a corner and sit there with her fingers in her ears until they left; this was not for her to see. But she had always been curious, too curious her mother said, and she had never known kings could be like this. They were strong and bold, as they had been when they fought the slavers, or they were kind and just, as when they had taken her father on board and promised to return the missing islanders. Kings could do what they liked, couldn’t they? She had not known that they kept secrets, that they whispered in the dark as if they were afraid. She had not known they could look as sad as Caspian did when he turned his head away from Edmund, the light falling on his face and showing her his expression for the first time.

“Well, at least we know why you’re here now, anyway,” Caspian said, his suddenly cheerful voice loud after their quiet conversation. It reminded her of her mother putting on a brave face every time her father went away. Edmund blinked and looked confused. “The mist,” Caspian said more softly.

“Right, yes. The mist,” Edmund said, as if he had forgotten all about it. “The mist. That’s why we’re here.”

Caspian gave a little half-smile. “We’ll work it out. Like you said. We’ll figure out what’s going on and get everyone back, and then…” the smile faded away.

“And then I’ll leave,” Edmund finished.

“You don’t know that. You stayed before, you could stay again.”

Edmund shook his head. “No. I’ll leave, and this time I won’t come back.” Caspian looked at him for a long time. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. Then he turned and walked away. Edmund watched him all they way up the steps to the deck. His feet were out of sight before he followed him.

The next few days were exhausting and terrifying. She had to move round the ship constantly to avoid being discovered. Every new hiding place was disturbed almost immediately: the cook would bellow an order for someone to fetch provisions from the chest she had just hidden in, or she would hide behind a pile of hammocks only to find they were needed by the next watch. She knew she would have to give herself up eventually, had always intended to do so, but if they found her too soon they would just turn the ship around and take her back. They needed to be far enough away that they couldn’t send her home.

It was strange, being invisible on the ship. She saw and heard all sorts of things, but only snatches, brief glimpses of other people‘s lives: Queen Lucy’s hand holding onto the railing as she leaned over it, the punchline of a joke she didn’t understand and the raucous laughter of the sailors, a pair of feet running through the hold, Drinian’s voice booming orders across the deck, Eustace muttering to himself as he lay in his hammock writing his diary, sunlight glinting off a sword as it was cleaned and polished, Reepicheep’s tail darting in and out of her view as he scampered about the rigging, her father’s silhouette glimpsed through the grating of the hatchway as she stole about the hold in search of food that wouldn‘t be missed.

She avoided being near her father as much as she could, an almost impossible task. Every time she saw him, every time she heard his voice, she wanted to throw herself into his arms, where she was safe. It was often all she could do to force herself to remain hidden.

The two kings were rarely apart, she noticed. Whether as a pair or as part of a group, neither let the other stray from his side for very long. And they laughed a lot. Caspian especially was quick to smile and to tease. She wondered whether she had imagined the sadness and worry she had seen in the hold. They would talk together for hours; she spent an entire afternoon secreted behind a bulkhead, listening to Edmund tell stories from his own world. As she got better at hiding and moving around the ship unseen, she noticed more and more; quick glances and fleeting touches that no one else saw. A clasp on the shoulder that lasted a second longer for Edmund than it did for the captain. A smile that sprang more easily to the lips for Caspian than for her father. Once, as she crouched behind a coil of enormous rope on her way to a more secure hiding place, she saw Edmund’s hand briefly grasp Caspian’s as he walked past, apparently deep in conversation with Lucy. Caspian’s fingers curled to return the gesture, but Edmund’s hand had already gone. She could not see their faces.

She had been on board for six days when they almost caught her in the hold. She had just risen from behind some sacks of flour where she had spent the night and had begun to cross to a store of sail-cloth in the corner of the hold, when a pair of boots began to descend from the deck, accompanied by her father’s voice. She froze in panic, not knowing whether to return to the flour sacks or make a break for the safer cover of the sail-cloth. She stood there, immobile, only moving when her father’s face came into view, fortunately turned away from her to speak to the people following him into the hold. She had left herself no time to reach either of her hiding places, she realised, and had to throw herself behind the nearest water cask. It was the same cask she had hidden behind before and the net still hung beside it. But other stores had been moved, and where before she had been surrounded, now only the cask and net kept her from discovery. She drew herself into the tightest ball she could manage and wrapped her arms around her knees.

It was King Edmund and King Caspian who had come into the hold with her father. They were keen for him to tell them all he could about the green mist. They had discussed it several times already; Gael couldn’t understand why they kept going over it. She closed her eyes, hugged her knees tighter and listened to the sound of her father’s voice. She tried to focus on that and not on what he was talking about; it was too horrible to think about her mother being swallowed up in that mist, being taken away from them. What if she was hurt, what if she was… No. She would not think about that. They would find her. They would. And she would be fine and they would all be together again and they would be safe and happy. The king had said so.

The sound of voices and footsteps withdrew up the stairs. Gael waited until she was sure they were on deck and then peered around the cask of water. She drew back with a gasp; only King Edmund and her father had returned to the deck. Caspian was still in the hold. Her heart pounding, she peered out again, this time using the net to give her a little more cover. He was leaning against a bulkhead, not far from the foot of the steps. He looked tired, she realised. Out on deck, amongst the crew, he was all smiles and laughter. Here, in the dark and the quiet, he looked tired.

“Caspian?” Edmund’s voice came down through the hatch. “Caspian?” His feet appeared on the stairs, followed quickly by the rest of him, topped off by a face full of concern. “Caspian.”

“Ed. Sorry. Lost in thought. Did you need something?”

Edmund gave a strange little smile at that. “Many things. Are you all right?”

“Fine.” Edmund said nothing, but raised his eyebrows. Caspian sat down on a pile of boxes with a sigh. “I’m just worried.”

“Nothing new there then,” Edmund said, crouching beside him. The ropes of the net were now blocking Gael’s view. She shifted slightly and saw that Edmund had taken Caspian’s hand. “You think too much.”

“There’s a lot to think about.” Edmund apparently had nothing to say to that. Instead, he raised Caspian’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “Now who’s mad?” Caspian said, with a glance towards the steps mere feet away from them, and the hatch above.

“There’s nothing wrong with kissing a sovereign’s hand.”

Caspian’s mouth twisted. “You and your brother have always made it very clear that I am not your sovereign.”

Edmund dropped Caspian’s hand. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t bring Peter into this.” They fell into silence, and for what felt like a very long time neither of them moved. For days Gael had been worried about getting caught. Now for the first time she was worried that they would get caught. She did not know exactly what was going on but she was sure that being found like this, alone with Edmund kneeling at Caspian’s feet, would raise questions the two kings did not want to be asked. Silently, she urged them both to get up and go.

Caspian was the first to move. He lifted his arm and rested his hand, the one Edmund had kissed, on Edmund’s shoulder. His fingers played with the hair at the nape of Edmund’s neck. “I’m sorry,” he said, so quietly that Gael hardly heard it. Edmund looked up at him.

“Me too.” He studied Caspian for a moment. “We’re not very good at this, are we?”

“Not really, no.” Caspian stood up. “Come on,” he said, pulling Edmund to his feet. “We should go up before someone comes looking for us.” Neither of them moved to go once they were on their feet. Instead they stood looking at each other, so close that Gael could not see daylight between them. She watched in fascinated horror as Caspian reached out, wrapped his hand around the back of Edmund’s neck, pulled him forward and kissed him hard on the mouth. She thought Edmund would push him away. Instead, after a moment’s hesitation, he buried his hands in Caspian’s hair and returned the kiss.

She pressed her lips together to keep from crying out. They were both mad, she decided. Through the hatchway she could see a patch of sky and even the edge of the rail of the poop deck. From where they stood wrapped around each other they could surely see people on deck. And therefore people on deck could see them. All they had to do was look down the hatch and they would see, they would see. Frantically, she looked around. She had no idea what she was looking for or what she was going to do, but she knew that any second now someone was going to come down through the hatch and then… she didn’t know what would happen but she remembered the look of panic on Edmund’s face the last time she had seen them together in the hold, and the look of sadness on Caspian’s, and she knew she must do something.

There was a sack of oranges just behind her. Snatching one off the top she threw it as hard as she could into the far corner of the hold, then ducked back behind her cask and prayed. She heard a muffled thump as the orange made contact with something towards the stern.

“What was that?” Caspian’s voice sounded strained and breathless.

“Is someone there?” Edmund, if anything, sounded worse than Caspian. Gael squeezed her eyes shut, as though this would somehow prevent them from seeing her.

“Probably just something falling over. We should go back up on deck.” Gael risked a peek through the net. They were still standing near the bottom of the steps, but were now a respectable distance from one another, though looking flushed and a little sheepish.

“We should. And speak to Drinian about getting the stores re-packed. Things shouldn’t be falling over in these seas.”

Caspian nodded, and together they went up the stairs and disappeared through the hatch and onto the deck. Gael heaved a sigh of relief. They hadn’t caught her and, more importantly she decided, they hadn’t been caught. She had saved them.

It proved to be her undoing. Drinian, at Caspian’s request, ordered the re-packing of the hold, to much grumbling from the crew who insisted (out of the captain’s hearing) that the hold was packed just fine. It would take most of the day and they would begin in the morning, so that night Gael crept through the hold, past the swaying hammocks where sailors slept soundly and the two kings tossed and turned, and out onto the deck. It was not the first time she had had to do this, but it had always been for brief periods as she moved from one hiding place to another. This time she would have to spend all day there.

It was not pleasant hiding in the empty basket, which gradually grew hotter and hotter as the sun beat down on it. The basket was tightly woven and not much light or air could get in. It quickly became stuffy and she had not been able to bring any food with her, and she soon became light-headed and sleepy. The noise and bustle of an active ship, which had at first sounded worryingly close, seemed to reach her from far away. The sounds of an argument and then a fight, with clashing swords and Reepicheep shouting encouragement, were like a dream. It came as a shock when she felt the basket tip and tilt, and she tumbled out onto the deck with a scream to find half the crew gathered around staring at her. She scrambled to her feet and stood amongst them, not knowing what to say.

“Gael? What are you doing here?” Still unable to speak, Gael did what she had been longing to do for days: she threw her arms around her father and buried her head in his shirt. His arm around her shoulders was the best feeling in the world.

She looked up as the captain came towards them, his stern face glowering down at her. She tried to stop the trembling in her legs, glad of her father’s arm around her. When Drinian held out an orange and announced they had an extra crew member she sagged against her father with relief. He was surely the only thing holding her up. She wasn’t in trouble, and they weren’t sending her home! She smiled for the first time in days and happily went with Queen Lucy.

“How did you manage it?” asked Lucy as they walked towards her cabin. “Where have you been hiding?”

“In the hold mostly,” said Gael, and then stopped. She had just caught sight of Edmund and Caspian, who were watching her curiously. She saw understanding hit them both at the same moment and wanted to cry out that she would never betray them, never tell what she had seen and heard. But of course she could not.

Lucy settled her in her cabin, saying she was sure she needed rest and food. Gael knew that the polite thing would be to refuse but her stomach betrayed her. Lucy laughed at the loud rumble that came from beneath the bedclothes. “I’ll fetch you something from the galley. You just stay there.”

Gael was dozing when the door opened again, able to relax for the first time since she had come aboard. A delicious smell preceded Lucy into the cabin and Gael sat up expectantly. It was not Lucy. Caspian stood in the doorway, a tray balanced precariously on one hand while he tried to close the door with the other. Gael gaped at him for a second before remembering her manners and scrambling off the bed to drop into a clumsy curtsey. “Your Majesty.”

“It’s all right. Please sit down.” He finally closed the door by taking the tray in both hands and kicking the door closed behind him. “Edmund thinks this is a mistake,” he said, placing the tray in front of her as she took a seat in one of the chairs, “but I thought we should talk.” He sat beside her, and though she did not dare look at him, she knew he was watching her closely.

“About what, your Majesty?” she said with difficulty.

“About what you have seen or heard while you were hiding about the ship.” This was the scary version of Caspian, the one who had fought the slavers. He was not the laughing boy she had seen on deck or even the weary man she had seen in the hold. He sounded as stern and as terrifying as Drinian.

Gael hung her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to see or hear anything. I couldn’t help it.”

“You are not in trouble Gael. I just wanted to talk to you about it. To explain things, if I can.” She looked up at that. She had not expected an explanation for anything. He still looked serious, but as she watched him she saw a smile begin to creep in around his eyes. “It’s all right,” he said. “I just — tell me what you saw.”

“Just, just little things really. I saw King Edmund take your hand once, while you were out on deck. Just for a second.” Caspian smiled at that and looked down at his hands. “And I listened to you talking one afternoon. Well, King Edmund was talking mostly, telling stories from his world, and you were listening and asking questions.”

“Listened, not heard?” Caspian said.

“I—” Gael said, feeling her face flame. Caspian laughed.

“I understand. They are intriguing stories.”

“Yes,” she said, not wanting to admit that it wasn’t really the stories she had been intrigued by. “And I saw… I saw…” This was the difficult bit. She took a deep breath. “I saw you soon after I came aboard. You were down in the hold and you — you touched King Edmund’s face.” Caspian said nothing but bit his lip. “And, um, you were down there after you talked to my father and I saw you… kiss.”

Caspian stood up abruptly, paced twice across the width of the cabin and sat back down again. “Gael, what you saw —” He looked away. “Lion’s mane, how to explain this to a child?” he muttered to himself.

“I’m not a child,” Gael burst out. “I’m eight and a half years old!”

Caspian laughed again. “Of course. Of course, I’m sorry.” He arranged his face into a more serious expression and leaned forward, his hands clasped in front of him. “I know you probably think that being a king means you can do whatever you like. I know I did when I was a ch— when I was your age. But there are certain expectations of a king. I am expected to marry and to have children who will rule after me,” he said as if this was news to her. “I can’t always have what I want. I will have to find a wife and any suggestion that I might be, um, not going to do that will not be taken very well. Which is why,” he said gently, “you can’t tell anyone what you saw. Not your father, not anyone.”

“I know that,” Gael said impatiently. Did he think she was stupid? “That’s why I threw the orange.”

“You — what?” said Caspian, looking thoroughly confused.

“When I saw you in the hold the second time, when you kissed King Edmund, I was afraid you were going to get caught. Anyone could have come down through the hatch and seen you. So I threw an orange at the wall to try to distract you. And it worked,” she added proudly.

Caspian sat back in his chair. A slow smile spread across his face. “Really? You did that?” Gael nodded. Caspian seemed to be struggling for words for a moment. Then he said, “Thank you, Gael.”

She nodded and smiled. “Your Majesty?” she said after a moment. “Can I ask you something?”

“Since I apparently have you to thank for protecting our secret I suppose you can, yes,” said Caspian with a smile.

“King Edmund said he would leave, and that he wouldn’t be coming back. What did he mean?” She regretted it almost immediately as the smile vanished from Caspian’s face.

“Edmund does not control when he comes to Narnia or how long he stays. He comes and goes at Aslan’s bidding. Sooner or later he will have to leave.”

“But why can’t he come back? He always comes back doesn’t he?” But Caspian shook his head.

“He won’t come back this time,” he said, and there was a finality in his voice that told her he would not discuss it further.

“Do you love him?” she asked, surprising herself, though not nearly so much as she surprised Caspian.

“It — I — Well — That’s a complicated — I — Yes. Yes I do,” he finished quietly.

“Oh. Well, that’s completely unfair then. To bring him here and then take him away.”

“Aslan knows what he is doing,” Caspian said. Gael knew better than to argue further. She had got away with a great deal of impertinence already. She wanted to ask if Edmund loved him, but did not dare.

There was a knock at the door and King Edmund’s head appeared round it. “Lucy would like to know if she can please have her cabin and her guest back,” he said in a loud, cheerful voice. More quietly he added, “Everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine,” said Caspian, standing up. He rested his hand on her shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.

“I won’t tell,” she said in a whisper. “I never would.”

“I know.” Caspian smiled down at her. “Thank you.” He crossed the cabin to Edmund, who nodded at her, still looking a little anxious. Caspian guided him out of the cabin, one hand resting on the small of his back, as Lucy came bustling in, chiding them both for keeping Gael from her food. Caspian glanced back over his shoulder and winked at her. Gael grinned and tucked into her supper.


End file.
